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Thursday, July 2, 2015

ANT FARM

ANT FARM

I've visited the ant farm, even spray-painted my initials on the 63' Sedan. Dad loved his baby-blue caddy, a testament to his success. I remember racing it down the road and choking on the dust cloud swirling like a comet tail as he drove away.

Memories of himtinkering, washing, and polishing Abby, a car named after me, are all I have, that and a few faded photographs. Dad was handsome; the ladies loved him. I wonder if he loved anyone.

Mom married Hank, a mean son-of-a-bitch.

Stuffing Hank's carcass in the tail of that monument somehow seems apropos.

I love the contrast between the two father figures in her life - Dad's not perfect, it seerms, but you can feel the love she has for him. Great ending. No point wasting time or words on Hank. Well told.

Would love to hear from you, say hello and leave your blog address - I'll visit, but please take with you my undying gratitude that you stopped by for a read. Be well, be happy, and may your blog surfing bring you joy!